An Arrow on The Wind
by Twi-Chan456
Summary: After the Fifth Blight ended, Iliana finds herself wandering through the Free Marches with no goal or destination in place. Crossing paths with an elf creates some sort of connection, and in parting pathways with him after lending him a hand, she finds herself in Kirkwall and finding things are far different there than back in her homeland of Rivain. Takes place during DA2.


**A/N: If any of my facts are wrong, feel free to correct me. Researching takes times and sometimes I tend to overlook things by accident.**

* * *

When I was a little girl, my older brother had always talked about joining the Grey Wardens. Our mother would often tell us the stories about the Deeproads and of the Darkspawn that lurked within them, waiting for the day an Archdemon would appear, giving them an opportunity to taint it with the Blight. My brother admired the Wardens so, always spieling about how he would one day join them to protect the world and all of us. It would bother my mother, the way he spoke about giving himself so freely to save the world. She of course never tried to crush his boyish dream, letting him hold onto it. She probably thought it would be something he'd outgrow (which it wasn't). My father always told her it was a better dream to have than one of becoming a pirate.

My parents were both Fereldans, having moved to Rivain after some relatives of my mother had passed and left a house for her and my father as an early wedding present. Michael and I had never known anything other than Rivain, and we were proud to call it our home. My father ran a blacksmith shop, and my mother would sell herbs to make some extra money. We were always well off. My family was never wealthy, nor were we poor. Food was always on the table and we always had a home to go home to. The business was always good, and travelers always passed through our city. My father was the best in the Llomerryn as far as I could understand, and perhaps the best in Rivain, The weapons he crafted were always so beautiful, made from the finest materials one could find. Father always took such pride in each one he made, but he was always so very humble about it. Business wasn't always heavy, and that was fine with him and mother. Enough coin was always made to provide, so neither ever complained. Our little family was at peace, and we were happy.

Shortly before my eighteenth birthday, about a week before, the Fifth Blight hit Ferelden. King Cailan was betrayed by Teryn Loghain, and the Grey Wardens were said to be the blame for what happened in Ostagar. Word traveled throughout Thedas as fast as refugees were coming into the city. That was the year business boomed for my father. Never had so much coin come in. War did that, I figured. People wanted weapons to protect themselves, and some were willing to pay whatever it cost to have the best. With the Blight and Darkspawn a threat we had to come to terms with, my older brother declared he would join the remaining Grey Wardens. My mother had a fit about it, putting her foot down and refusing to send her oldest child and only son to fight the Darkspawn. Father was neither for it nor against it, but the idea of sending one of his children to fight something that threatened our world troubled him. I suppose you could say he sided with mother on the matter. Michael did not see reason of course. Why hide and do nothing when one could lend a helping fight off the beings that threatened our existence?

Michael left during the night, leaving only a single note to indicate he had gone to Ferelden to help fight the Darkspawn with whatever few remaining Grey Wardens there were.

 _ **Mother, I know you'll be upset with me, and I do apologize, but I cannot sit here and do nothing to help. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I'll stay in touch, so please don't worry about me too much. Father, I hope you won't be too angry with me taking that sword over the fireplace. I'll take good care of it. I remember everything you taught me, and once this is all over I'll be sure to return it to you.**_

 _ **Little sister; try to keep mother and father in check while I am away. Stay safe and look out for them, will you? I'm sorry I won't be here for your birthday, but I'll buy you a pretty dress or whatever you'd like when all this is over to make up for it. Take care of yourself.**_

 _ **I love you all so much, and I'll write home every chance I get.**_

 _ **With love,**_

 _ **Michael**_

Mother was so upset. I wasn't sure about father. He was worried, but there was something in his eyes. He seemed almost proud that his son was going to fight to save the world. Mother was depressed, incredibly so. Everyday she would worry aloud. It would annoy my father, so he'd leave. I'd usually go for a walk. Eventually things calmed down in my family. Michael sent word that he'd been indicted into the Wardens, and was assisting the few that survived the incident in Ostagar.

Several months later, mother fell ill. Many healers came by our house in that time period, trying to determine what had caused her to fall so gravely ill. And older mage by the name of Neva was the last to look at my mother and give us a diagnosis. She took father aside and told him her thoughts before she sat down with me and spoke to me privately.

"Your mother has a sickness that cannot be cured by any healing magic or herbs."

"It's not the Blight, is it?" Neva explained to me that it wasn't anything deadly like the Blight. It was simply terminal, and incurable. "So we're supposed to just let her die?"

"I'm sorry, child. Keep her comfortable and just be there with her."

"What caused this?"

She listed many things, some of which didn't make much sense to me, but the one thing that stuck out resonates with me to this day.

"Perhaps it's a broken heart. Your older brother left without giving a proper goodbye. Mothers take those sorts of things to heart."

My father and I did everything we could to make sure she enjoyed the little time she had left. No one ever told her she was going to die, and I don't think we needed to. As soon as she'd fallen ill, it was like she knew she was going to die and she took it with such peace. Anytime she'd look at me, there was such sorrow in her eyes. She'd not live to see me finish growing up, leave home to live my own life, find someone to settle down and have children with. It was a sad thought, and I would try to not think about it when I'd sit with her and read to her like she'd done for me when I was a child. We'd reminisce and sometimes I would lay in bed beside her, letting her stroke my hair in comfortable silence.

"When I'm gone, try to find some happiness." I didn't know why she'd said it out of nowhere, but I didn't protest, trying to not think about her leaving us, leaving me.

"I will, mother."

Mother died a few weeks later in her sleep. The whole community came out for the funeral, and it was as nice as a funeral could possibly get. It was almost...comforting, having so many friends and neighbors grieve with us.

Father took it harder than I did, I think. Of course, I was broken up about it, but father more so. I'd never seen two people so in love before, and it was a wonder he was not locked up in his workshop hiding away from everyone. I wrote Michael and let him know of mother's passing, and to this day I still don't know if he ever received the letter. Any letters he sent to us all stopped coming in shortly before mother passed. For a while I used to think that she figured he died and it had been so gruesome that there were no remains to bring home, and perhaps that was what had made mother's illness progress. I found myself blaming him at times when I was feeling my lowest. Even today, I still find myself dwelling on the subject.

Business resumed. Father continued to sell weapons, and I took it upon myself to sell the herbs in the shop, figuring someone had to do it. Other days I'd practice my archery. I'd been practicing the art of it for several years, and I found comfort in it, using it as a coping mechanism you could say. Shooting arrows at tree was almost consoling. When I wasn't doing that, I did the food shopping and kept the house up. Cooked, cleaned, all that.

Father wouldn't eat some nights. He'd become far colder in the months after mother passed, and it was almost irritating to be around. Eventually I became fed up with it and I confronted him. He'd ignored me, told me I was began to argue more frequently. The final straw was the day that I came home from market and found him drinking himself silly. The kitchen had been trashed, plates shattered all over the floor and several glasses amongst the rubble. He'd never been one to drink often, mostly on special occasions, so the change was new and it was annoying. He screamed at me, cursing Andraste for taking mother away, cursing at me for not reacting the way he thought I should, cursing Michael for leaving us and not bothering to come home for the funeral, or to come help him with the shop. All the tension had finally built up to the point where it was spilling over, like a pot left to boil for too long.

I couldn't deal with it anymore. So I left. Left Rivain all together, and I didn't look back.

I spent a few months in Antiva, doing odd jobs here and there to earn some coin while traveling city to city. The Blight ended not long after, and everyone celebrated. Ferelden was wounded from it, and it would take some years for it to finally heal from the damage that had been done. In the years to come, a giant hole would rip open the sky and cause even more problems, but that's a different story for another time. I left Antiva and headed south, not having to worry about the Blight, or Darkspawn. I made some friends eventually when I arrived in the Free Marches, traveled with them for a bit. All good fun, until the fighting amongst the group began, and I took my leave swiftly, thanking them for their kindness and open arms. My feet carried me all over the Free Marches, and eventually I found myself in Planasene forest. I kept to myself, until one day a commotion not far from my camp caught my attention. Bow in hand, I approached cautiously, and found an elf surrounded by bandits.

My decision to help him would lead to events that would change my life forever, just as the events that would take place in Kirkwall would.

My name is Iliana Valkyrie. And this is my story.

* * *

 **A/N: Honestly, I just wanted to try this out and I guess put it out there. It's more of a rough draft if anything, something that's just been playing around in my head. Also, if I decide to continue this, it will be continued in third person! Feedback is appreciated, and sorry for any errors in spelling/grammar, it's 5:30 AM LOL. Laters~**


End file.
